


take a little piece of my heart

by astarisms



Category: Here It Comes (Webcomic), Satan and Me (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 12,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7283818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astarisms/pseuds/astarisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ask meme prompts and drabbles that follow many of the characters through canon-verse and AU situations. Primarily Natan. Drabbles 38-45 added!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Raphael/Uriel

**Prompt:** Raphael/Uriel as childhood bffs/loves who meet again as teens.

Raphael remembers everything - he remembers the blinding yellow of Uriel’s favorite shirt, the radiating warmth of his hand when he held it for comfort, the exuberant, gleeful laughter as Raphael pushed him on the swings (“higher, higher, _higher!_ ”).

He remembers, and it’s those memories that make the sunshine pale in comparison to Uriel’s warmth, to the way Uriel made everything oversaturated with his glow, to the way he made laughter fill Raphael and melted every reserve he’d had, even as a child.

It’s nearly fifteen years since they’ve seen each other, roughly ten since they’ve spoken, but when Raphael hears his name behind him, he knows who it is, feels it in every single one of his pores, like sunshine streaming through the cracks, and he smiles.


	2. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, Dairy Queen AU

He comes in everyday at the same time with the same order, always looking at his watch and generally being irritable - though he’s never been rude to her - and at this point she’s made it a habit to have it ready for him before he gets there, so when he walks in all she has to do is hand him his triple chocolate brownie dessert blizzard and watch the lines around his eyes and the crease between his brows smooth out.

After awhile she gets bored of the same old routine, and starts leaving little messages on the side of his cup for him to read and when she catches his sharp gold eyes scanning the styrofoam before his blizzard has even fully left her hands she smiles a little too broadly and tells him to have a good day a little too enthusiastically.

One day she’s preparing his blizzard and her sharpie is gripped a little too tightly in her hands as she quickly scrawls this new message before she can chicken out, and when she goes to hand it to him she’s so nervous she can hardly meet his eyes; later when she’s home, nerves still squirming in the pit of her stomach, she gets a call from an unknown number - she recognizes his voice from the first syllable and is unable to wipe the silly grin from her face for the rest of the night.


	3. Gabriel/Anthea

**Prompt:** Gabriel/Anthea, coffee shop AU

The first time she comes into the corner coffee shop he works at, he’s struck by how beautiful she is, he stumbles through taking her order and blushes when he can’t seem to get a single word out right and goes even redder still when she giggles behind her hand at him.

The tenth time she comes into the corner coffee shop he works at, he’s unable to pay attention to much else besides the lilt of her voice as she tells him about her day in the casual back and forth they’ve acquired, and he spills her coffee all over his hands and down the front of his apron (he can’t bring himself to be upset about it when she rushes behind the counter and runs his hands under cold water and gets him paper towels to help him clean up the mess he’s made).

The twenty-fifth time she comes into the corner coffee shop he works at, he’s already started on her order, but she hardly looks at it, fidgeting nervously as she tries to pull out the money for it, and when she finally does hand him the small pile of bills, there’s a white piece of paper on top, and written on it, in flowing script, are 10 numbers.


	4. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, testing out pick up lines on Lucifer.

When Natalie leaned against his back that morning right before she left for school, he thought she had been expecting a goodbye or something of the sort - what he hadn’t expected was for her to put her lips by his ear, say “Baby, somebody better call God, because he’s missing an angel!” and take off out the door the moment she caught sight of his expression, her laughter trailing after her.

He had thought that was the end of it, but he should’ve known better, and because of his lack of foresight, when he heard the door open with Natalie’s return he didn’t think much of it, getting himself a heaping bowl of chocolate ice cream - that is, until she tugged on the back of his, as she so delicately put it, _skirt_ and he heard her go “Where’s the tag that says “made in heaven”?”

Growling but unwilling to abandon his ice cream for her silly games, he’d let her go without saying much, and was grateful when the rest of the day passed without incidence; it was later, her sitting at her desk doing homework and him reading when she went “Lucifer?” and him, not really paying attention, hummed in acknowledgment, to which she continued, “Did you fall from heaven to be with me?”, a grin playing on the edges of her lips when he froze in surprise, then snapped his book shut, stood, and crossed the room to her, squishing her cheeks between his hands and muttering, “Shut up and let me put your mouth to better use, kid.”


	5. Raphael/Gabriel

**Prompt:** Raphael/Gabriel, art student AU.

Long story short, Raphael had a project due soon and every model he’d contacted had already been busy, so when he’d asked Gabriel to model for him last minute, it was no surprise that his best friend had agreed and been at the studio in 20 minutes with take out and an easy smile.

After they’d eaten, Gabe stripped down to his underwear and asked how long it would take, and when Raphael had answered that it shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours, he had been honest - it _shouldn’t_ have.

But he found himself paying special attention to the details in Gabriel’s body, looking longer than he needed to capture the pose and the shading, and though he was aware that it was probably wrong of him to be staring at his closest friend like he was, he couldn’t help himself, and the satisfaction far outweighed the guilt when he ended up keeping Gabe long enough that it was too late for him to go home that night.


	6. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, in which Nat is a detective and Lucifer is the suspect/witness that they have in protective custody.

He was dangerous, she knew, with sharp golden eyes and an even sharper tongue and an even sharper still knife that was now in their custody, safely contained in an evidence bag, though she wasn’t able to say the same for him because even handcuffed, the shit-eating grin he wore while he lounged made her believe he was more than capable of escaping if he chose to.

When he had been let go because there had been no solid evidence that linked him to the crime, she had raised hell - she knew it, they _all_ knew it, and Lucifer (who her coworkers had fittingly dubbed “Satan” in private) knew they knew it but couldn’t prove it, if his smug, satisfied smirk was anything to go by; Natalie had never been one to let a case slip between her fingers though, and, ordained or not, she decided to take matters into her own hands and went after him, hoping to get close enough to him that he’d let something slip, or she’d be able to find something that would condemn him.

She had expected the easy charm, the smooth one-liners and the suggestive teasing that she had had enough experience to know was characteristic of the sociopaths who knew they were something to look at, and she’d always considered herself resistant to it; she honestly should’ve seen it coming, should’ve been more careful and guarded around a criminal who left not a single feasible trace of evidence, but when he looked at her with his wild, smoldering eyes and her heart skipped a beat, when he touched her with his bloodstained, warm hands and her knees buckled, when he spoke to her with his lying, suave tongue and her head swam, she knew it was all over - she had lost his game.


	7. Kristi/A!Michael

**Prompt:** Kristi/A!Michael, rollerskating/roller rink AU.

Michael leaned against the counter as Kristi rang him up and fetched the appropriate sized shoes for him, grinning cheekily at the blonde.

Kristi hardly even noticed how far he was leaning towards her until she looked up and caught his eyes just inches from her face, startlingly blue against the flashing red, yellow, and pink tinted lights.

When he asked how long he had to wait to get some time with a pretty girl, Kristi blushed and tucked a curl behind her ear, hitching one shoulder up in a nervous half shrug, offering him a, “I’m off in 20?” and a small smile as she pushed his skates across the counter towards him.


	8. Laila/Felix

**Prompt:** Laila/Felix, model/photographer AU.

“You know, this would go a lot quicker if you didn’t perpetually look like you were in a bad mood,” Laila teased lightly, lowering her camera to meet the surly green eyes of her model.

Felix’s sour expression turned downright ugly as he sneered at her, shifting his weight in the chair she had him situated in and muttering something that Laila thought sounded vaguely like, “can’t help it, s’just my face,” and then louder, “if you don’t like it you can find another model.”

The photographer shook her head, rolling her eyes goodnaturedly and coming forward to fix his hair to her liking, ignoring his attempts to dodge her and hiding her smile from him as he froze when she said, “You know I could never replace you, you’re my favorite.“


	9. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, public displays of affection.

It began as long looks shared over ice cream and simple touches when they sat together and linking fingers as they walked when they thought no one was paying attention that usually ended with Natalie squeezing his hand lightly and him bringing it up to his mouth to absently brush his lips over her knuckles.

Then it was her raising on her toes to kiss his cheek whenever there was a lapse in conversation and sitting on his lap during truth or dare and whispering back and forth in the library that usually ended with Natalie giggling and burying her face in his shoulder as her own shook and him looking down at her, his features softening for a split second before he pasted his default surly expression back in place and nudged her off of him.

Then it was him kissing the back of her neck as they waited on karaoke and slipping his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt as they sat on the patio of a restaurant waiting on their food and turning her quick, chaste kisses into something deeper and longer, unfazed by the idea of their ever-present audience any longer (that is, until their uncomfortable coughs and the hesitant cleared throats pulled Natalie back to reality, lightheaded and breathless and sheepishly red-cheeked).


	10. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, undressing.

It’s innocent enough, all she’s doing is getting ready for bed, but he is unable to tear his eyes from her as she raises her crossed arms over her head, pulling the hem of her shirt up, baring more and more creamy skin to his hungry gaze.

His eyes linger on her scars before her hair tumbles out of her shirt and settles at her waist, and then he’s drawn to the motions her hips make as she wiggles out of her jeans, his mouth going dry at the soft curves exposed to him.

She kicked the discarded clothes into the corner and pulled her hair over her shoulder, reaching for the clasp of her bra, and he had trouble keeping himself seated as dropped the garment onto the floor and pulled a large t-shirt over her head before turning to him, all smiles and completely unaware of the effect she has on him.


	11. Laila/Natalie

**Prompt:** Laila/Natalie, first kiss.

Neither Natalie nor Laila had thought much of it when the idea had been brought up - after all, they were best friends, they’d been sharing everything for years and sharing their first kiss didn’t seem like a big deal.

But the moment their lips touched, neither of them had expected the spark, or how soft the others’ mouth was, or how much they wanted to do it again.

Both of them pulled away red-faced, and made an awkward game of tip toeing around each other for several days until Laila became fed up with it and grabbed the front of Natalie’s t-shirt, kissing her for the second time - except this time, neither of them pulled away.


	12. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, 'he's hot' 'I heard that'.

Natalie was out with a few friends when she first saw him, tall, dark, and everything she was weak for, standing aside in the small crowd gathered waiting for their orders at the little coffee shop she often frequented.

He caught her staring a few times, and she blushed and averted her eyes, but when she was sure he wasn’t paying attention, she leaned closer to Chelle as they waited for their own orders, “he’s hot.”

Chelle grinned at her and the two of them gushed for a minute, until he retrieved his coffee and the two girls fell silent as he passed them; he stopped by Natalie, bending to her ear to say, “I heard that” and slipping a piece of paper into her hand - Natalie turned bright red when she turned it over to find his number scrawled there.


	13. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan finding natan fics.

“This is…” Satan trailed off, unable to find the words to describe what exactly they were looking at on Natalie’s laptop, fists clenched and knuckles white by his sides.

“Yeah…” Natalie said, in the same shocked state he was in, clicking back to the main page and scrolling down the list of fanfictions dubbed “natan”, feeling her cheeks and neck warm at the warnings and ratings some of them had.

She slammed her laptop shut after a moment, turning to look at him with a bubbling laugh, trying not to put too much thought into the bit of yellow in his horns and what was undoubtedly a blush of his own beneath his narrowed glare as she nudged him with a nervous, “awkward, huh?”


	14. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** ****Natalie/Satan, meeting the parents.

“We can’t hide it from him, he’s going to find out eventually,” Nat said quickly, twirling the ends of her hair nervously around her fingers, “and it’ll be better if he hears it from us rather than walking in on us… y’know, with you… _y’know_.”

Satan peered at her through slitted golden eyes, completely and utterly without a disguise as her dad made his trek from his car to the front door, where they were standing in clear view, and then sighed with a muttered “if you think this is best”.

The moment Alex strode in the door and saw him, all 6 foot 2 half-dressed inches, with horns and seals and unnatural cat eyes, Lucifer offered a charming, teeth-showing smile, putting his hand out in a perfectly civil gesture before saying, “Hi, I’m Satan and I’m dating your daughter” - needless to say, Alex needed a few minutes to regain his wits (and his consciousness).


	15. Natalie/Fem!Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Fem!Satan, pirate and mermaid AU.

There were gray clouds dotting the horizon, and Natalie stood on the edge of her ship trying to get a measure on how bad the inevitable storm would be and if her vessel and her crew would be able to handle it.

“It doesn’t look pretty for you,” a sultry voice called from below, and Natalie started with a gasp when she looked down into the strangest golden eyes she’d ever seen set above the most devious smirk she’d ever seen set into the most gorgeous face she’d ever seen set onto a body that tapered off into a blood red tail, “but I could help you to safety if you so desired.”

Natalie took a moment to recover from the shock, then narrowed her eyes, “and why should I trust you, _siren_ , a sea witch known for luring sailors to their deaths?” she asked, to which the siren’s body lifted; she curled a finger under Natalie’s chin, bringing their faces closer together, before murmuring, “it’s the men that are fun to fool, _pirate_ , but I must admit, I’m a little weak for pretty women.”


	16. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, dad AU.

If someone had told Satan he’d be settled down with a kid at any point in his lifetime that wasn’t the past 10 years, he’d have laughed at them and probably would have had them punished for even suggesting something so absurd.

As it was, though, there was currently a squirming little body wrestling its way up his shoulders, tugging on his hair, before the goal of his horns was finally reached with a tiny, triumphant laugh that sounded so like himself it almost scared him, and a curtain of dark hair fell over his eyes before his wife’s green eyes in a decidedly smaller and darker face met his from where she leaned over his head between his horns and giggled at him.

“Hi, daddy,” she said with a toothy grin (toothy a term he used lightly, as she was missing a few), and he couldn’t help his own smile as he reached up and grabbed her, flipping her over and into his arms and wincing only slightly when her shrill squeal of delight hurt his sensitive ears; when Natalie called from the other room that the two of them had better not be playing with fire in the house (a guess borne from plenty of experience), father and daughter just looked at each other before breaking into matching mischievous grins.


	17. Natalie/Satan

 

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, childhood neighbor AU.

When they were 5, Lucifer would come over everyday and steal half of Natalie’s peanut butter and jelly for lunch until Alex started making him one too, he would grumble and cross his arms at Natalie’s constant giggling, he would tug lightly on her pigtails until she swatted his hands away then promptly grab them again to lead him off to play in her mother’s garden, and he would try his hardest to hide his toothy smile.

When they were 15, Lucifer would walk with her to the bus everyday until they parted ways to sit with their friends, he would make sure she didn’t forget her stuff in the few classes they shared together, he would fend off those who would take advantage of her limitless compassion until she confronted him to tell him she could defend herself then promptly throw her arms around him and thank him for looking out for her, and he would try his hardest to hide how his hands flexed longingly against her back.

When they were 25, Lucifer would call her everyday and listen to her gush about her classes and the friends she’d made and her experiences, he would travel back home during the holidays in hopes that she’d be coming back, too, he would watch her bring home date after date until she came alone that year and kissed him under the mistletoe with flushed cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes, and he didn’t even bother to try to hide how much he enjoyed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I upload these in groups because that's typically how I write them, so the new ones start at chapter 13!


	18. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, aspiring singer/songwriter and music producer AU.

In all the time she’d spent and all the people she’d met trying to find her footing in the music business, the biggest obstacle she’d faced so far was without a doubt the producer who’d seen something in her worth salvaging, who just happened to be this most arrogant, pompous, rude, uncompromising, frustrating, uncooperative, infuriating-

“Good show tonight, kid,” he said when she came off stage after her first performance, giving her a smirk that was mostly cocky and, if she had picked up anything from him in the months they’d worked together, she’d daresay proud and despite everything, her heart leapt into her throat, butterflies in her stomach at the thought that she had finally won his approval.

She thanked him with a kind of breathless smile of her own, adrenaline still running high in her veins, but her smile quickly faded with shock when he presented her a small bouquet of a single rose and a bundle of baby’s breath, winking at her when he walked off; she took the small card off the top and when she turned it over to find his quick, messy scrawl of “Congratulations, kid, keep it up and there will be more than that came from”, the flush on her cheeks had nothing to do with the rush of performing.


	19. Natalie/Satan

**Prompts:** Natalie/Satan, kicking Satan out of bed  & fighting over blankets.

He couldn’t exactly recall when or how this had started or why he had even begun to consider this would be a good idea in the first place, and sharing a bed with Natalie, as sinful as it had potential to be, was infuriatingly enough the most innocent thing he had ever partaken in, especially when she was as prone to snuggling as she was.

The problem didn’t necessarily arise from how innocuous the situation was though, but instead how after the first couple of hours Natalie turned from cuddly and sweet and became a force to be reckoned with, rolling away from him and stealing all the blankets from him despite how he tugged them back, never settling down for more than a few minutes at a time, and this particular night, she even managed to kick him out of bed.

The thump from him hitting the ground was loud enough to wake her with a start, and she shot up, tangled in her covers enough to make it a struggle, before she caught sight of him, glaring up at her from the floor, horns red and lip curled back in a disgruntled snarl; he looked very much like a grumpy cat, and Natalie couldn’t help but laugh through her very heartfelt apology.


	20. Natalie/Satan

**Prompts:**  Natalie/Satan, things I wish I had told you.

He stares at her body and there’s a shocked kind of numbness and a blistering kind of pain all at once and the only thing he’s ever been through that rivaled this ache was Michael ripping his wings from his back but somehow this is  _worse_.

She’s dead and he doesn’t know how to handle everything he’s feeling at once, but the most prominent one is regret because he thought that they’d have more time, he thought they’d have her whole life, but now here he is with the words he’d never said sitting on the tip of his tongue and no one to hear them because he never considered that her whole life could be over so soon.

_Thank you._

_You saved me._

_I love you._


	21. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, "your love was handmade for someone like me".

She’s something else, that’s for sure. She laughs too loud and she smiles too brightly and she’s too friendly with strangers and she’s too goddamn trusting for her own good. She makes jokes at inopportune times and she will smile through her own pain if she thinks for even half a second that it can save you from yours. 

She accepts too quickly and she loves too openly and she gives too selflessly.

She’s unlike anyone he’s ever met, and he thinks, for half a moment, that maybe she’s perfect for him. Because she’s everything he’s  _not_ and she might just be everything he  _needs_. 

He’s guarded, closed off behind the walls he’s built, but she’s persistent and fiery enough to barrel right through them. He’s callous, numbed by years of locking his emotions away, but she’s impassioned and overwhelming enough to make him feel again. He’s angry, fueled by rage and a bitter resentment, but she’s lively and cheerful enough to soothe the burning in him.

By any and all means, he should be a difficult person to love. But Natalie makes it look so  _easy_. Every single time he pushes her away she pushes back, getting closer than before. 

He doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand her.

He tips his head back, closing his eyes. Maybe someone like her was made to love someone like him.

 


	22. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, "you've got your demons and darling they all look like me".

Natalie wakes up in the middle of the night, a scream caught in her throat with her legs tangled in her covers and her shirt plastered to her skin. She heaves, curling her fingers in her sheets to steady herself when she feels a weight sink the mattress beside her.

She forces a breathless laugh through her gasps and reaches for his thigh because he’s sturdier than the damp sheets. She leans against him heavily and wheezes an apology and he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any move to comfort her, he just sits there and waits for her heart rate to return to normal.

His hands are clenched into white-knuckled fists out of her sight, though, to keep them from shaking. His jaw aches from how firmly his teeth are grit to keep his own shuddering breath from escaping, and he turns his eyes up to the ceiling. 

The nightmares weren’t every night, and they weren’t always this bad, but they were frequent enough to keep the dark circles beneath her eyes from fading. She’s never told him what they’re about, but she doesn’t have to. 

She talks enough in her sleep for him to piece together bigger picture.

Sometimes she dreams of the bridge. She begs him to snap out of it, she thrashes when him grabs her, her fingers claw up her sheets and she convulses when he boils her alive.

Sometimes she dreams of the night they met Titus. She never says much during these, instead her shaking hands curl around the scar on her abdomen that has a twin on her back while she gasps, choked and agonized around a spear that’s not there.

Sometimes she dreams of Jericho. Her lip curls in thinly veiled disgust, she kicks out as she scrambles away from his knife, she hisses through her teeth but refuses to give him the satisfaction of screaming, and when he’s through carving up her arm she whispers some broken version of, “I trusted you over him.”

Sometimes she dreams of Hell. She calls out his name to a suffocating blackness, she begs the souls to stop but refuses to apologize for condemning them to save his sanity, she whispers names of demons long dead and she sobs with a despair so broken and hopeless it sears his very skin because  _he sent her there._

But sometimes… Sometimes she just dreams of him. She reaches for him and whispers, “Don’t go,” and she cries when he does, cold and alone and abandoned and so, so sad.

He hates all her nightmares. He hates them more because he knows the one thing that links every single one of them.

She’s finally calmed down and she relaxes her grip on him, turning her face up to smile at him, but it’s wobbly and exhausted. 

“Guess we all have some of our own demons,” she jokes, as cheerfully as she’s able, and lays back down. He stands again and turns his back on her as she tries to fall asleep again, unable to hide how his hands shake now.

All her demons begin and end with  _him_.


	23. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, "so I'll reclaim my body and my soul, banish the broken from my bones, you're no longer my religion".

She wakes up confused and disoriented in a way she’s never been before. She feels like something is gone, like she’s  _missing_  something, but she doesn’t know what and she doesn’t have time to linger on it.

Not when there’s a demon looming over her, acting like she should know him, acting like they’re friends.

She doesn’t care how his expression crumbled, she doesn’t care about the break in his voice. Demons were liars and he, the ruler of them all, was the Prince of Lies.

Despite the tugging in her chest when he whispers, “Natalie, please,” she turns her chin up. Despite the ache in her soul when he flinches after he reaches for her and she pulls away, she closes herself off. Despite the bells ringing in her head when he asks her a series of ‘Do you remember’s, she rejects him.

She refuses to be manipulated by him.

He slams his fist into the wall beside her head and she stifles her gasp because she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, he is the devil and destruction is all he’s good for, anyways.

Despite the fear, making her blood run cold and her hands shake, she steels herself. She clenches her fists and takes a deep breath and draws herself up to her full height regardless of the fact that he’s still got nearly a foot on her.

She’s ready to demand him to let her go when she gets a whisper of a memory in her peripheral, and she follows the thread with a slack jaw — a blurry face and her own voice claiming it to be her best friend.

She doesn’t know what to make of it. She’s so confused and scared but at least she’s  _alive_ , right? She’s  _alive_  now but she was  _dead_  before, if anything he says can be believed.

There’s so many things she doesn’t have the answer to, but one thing she does know is that her body and soul are hers and she won’t let him have them.

Whether or not they were best friends before, they weren’t anymore.


	24. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, kissing under fireworks.

Lucifer thought it was a silly holiday. A commemoration of long-gained independence, a day that was celebrated with booze and fireworks, seemed like an obvious money grab to him. 

But sitting in the grass with Natalie, her face turned up in unmistakeable awe to watch the sky bleed red and blue and gold and purple, Lucifer found himself thinking that perhaps there was something to it, after all. 

He found her much more fascinating than the explosion of gunpowder, and spent all 17 minutes of the performance (timed for the exact length of the average attention span, she’d told him excitedly beforehand) ignoring the lights in the sky in favor of the light of her eyes.

Halfway through, breathless with exhilaration, she turned to him, only to find him staring at her, his expression unreadable but the intensity of his eyes making her blush. 

“What is it?” she asked, leaning closer to be heard over the boom. Then, saddened, “Do you not like them?”

She was so close he could feel the whisper of her breath against his face. 

“I’ve found something more interesting,” he said, dodging her question to avoid hurting her feelings. Her eyebrows furrowed, as if the concept of something more interesting than fireworks was unfathomable.

“What’s that?” She was looking up at him in earnest, her thigh brushing his, her closeness and her warmth making his head spin and prompting him to do something he normally wouldn’t in the place of an answer. 

He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss only lasted a few moments, and he pulled back, still just a breath away. Natalie’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and smiled. 

“For once,” she said, her lips still tingling, “I have to agree with you.”

She reached up, curving a hand around the nape of his neck, and pulled him back down to her. The last eight and a half minutes, neither of them paid any attention to fireworks.


	25. Natalie/Satan

**Drabble:** Natalie/Satan (implied), grief

The grief was first to hit him. The overwhelming, all consuming mourning of the loss of her life that made him stumble back into the dresser. Despair washed over him in sickening waves and every unneeded breath pulled from between his teeth was haggard and rough. **  
**

The guilt was next. It suffocated him, the weight of it nearly dragged him to his knees because this was  _his fault_. If he had paid more attention, if he hadn’t taken her to the coast, if he’d left her after she had used up her contract wish she would  _still be alive_.

The loneliness was last. Tears burned in his eyes and he scrambled back towards her side, chest heaving with sobs he bit back so hard he saw white spots in his vision, because he was  _alone, again_. Without her, he had nothing, he had no one.

He had gone hundreds of years shouldering his own self loathing, but the few months reprieve she had provided him felt like a hole in his chest now and made the truth only that much more unbearable:

He would always be alone. There would never be anyone to love a monster like him.


	26. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, "I don't belong to you."

Recently, Natalie found that talking any guy for any length of time was becoming nearly impossible. Whether it was a cashier, a waiter, or just someone she bumped into on the street, she couldn’t make two minutes of friendly conversation without Satan huffing, rolling his eyes, glaring, and just being plain rude.

After he’d scared this latest one off — one of her classmates asking about how she’d been, since she’d missed a lot — she rounded on him, jabbing a finger into his chest. 

“ _What_ ,” she enunciated, “is your  _problem_?”

He looked down at her from where he’d been glaring after the poor guy, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t have a problem,” he said, and began walking again though she had been the one leading them to their destination. 

“Oh, no, no, no,” she said, running around him and putting both hands on his chest. She knew, in retrospect, she couldn’t have made him stop, but the implication seemed to work well enough because he did. 

“What?” His voice was little more than an irritated growl, and usually she wouldn’t hesitate to let it slide and laugh at him until his sour mood dissipated, but this had gone on for too long. 

“Don’t act like you have any right to be annoyed right now. If anyone should be annoyed, it’s me.” 

That one eyebrow stayed arched, and she huffed.

“Ever since — ever since Jericho,” she said, unconsciously lowering her voice even though there was nothing damning about the name itself, just the circumstances that had surrounded it, “you haven’t let me talk to  _anyone_.”

He remained silent and she felt her frustration grow. 

“You can’t scare off every guy I meet. I’m not—” She realized suddenly, by his brooding and his refusal to answer her questions, that this couldn’t possibly have to do with Jericho. At least, not the worse parts of him. “Ohmygosh,” she breathed, then smiled, slowly. 

“What the fuck are you grinning about?” he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. 

“You’re  _jealous_!” she cried, giddy. “Ohmygosh, that’s it!”

“What the fuck? No—”

Her laughter cut him off, and he glared more viciously than before. 

“I’m not fuckin’  _jealous_. Why would I be jealous? And over  _who_? That kid who uses more product than you do? The scrawny dude with acne at the store?” 

His defensiveness only convinced her further than she was right, and she calmed her giggles and soothed her features into something resembling sympathy.

“I can’t believe you’re jealous of that cashier.”

“ _I said I wasn’t_!” he barked, and Natalie’s careful composure busted in another round of laughter. She reached out, prying his arms apart, and took both of his hands. 

“Don’t worry,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “No one can ever take your place. But you can’t keep doing this. I don’t belong to you, even if my soul might.” 

He winced at the joke, and she clutched him tighter. Too soon, maybe. 

“Please stop scaring every guy I talk to. I don’t want to end up some kind of hermit just because everyone is afraid of talking to me because of you.” 

He was silent for a moment, stony, before his features relaxed. 

“It’s not my fault no one who wants to talk to you has any balls.” 

Natalie rolled her eyes, but turned to resume walking, dropping one of his hands. She swung the other between them. It was as close to an apology and a concession she was gonna get. 

“You’re my best friend, y’know,” she said, smiling at him. 

“Contrary to your belief, I did hear you the first fifteen times you said that. Supernatural hearing and all.”

“The reminder doesn’t hurt.” She nudged his shoulder. He nudged her back, a little harder, as his chest constricted painfully. 

The repetition itself was harmless enough, but the implications left him with an ache that wouldn’t cease. 

Best friend. Nothing more. 


	27. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, "stop treating me like a piece of property!"

His blood boiled and tinged his vision red. He felt the pressure of his horns and the press of claws hidden within his skin, waiting to burst free.

There was a bitter taste on his tongue and the burn of acid in his throat and it was all his fault.

_Jericho._

The grungy little shitstain was supposed to have kissed Natalie goodbye and been on his way, and even that had been pushing it. Instead, he’d turned their goodbye into something of a debacle that it was clear even Natalie wasn’t entirely comfortable with, shoving his tongue in her mouth and letting his hands travel a little too low.

“That’s enough,” he snarled, striding forward to grab Natalie’s shoulder and tear her away. She looked up at him in shock, his voice nearly unrecognizable.

Jericho feigned surprise, too, then morphed his expression into that kicked puppy look that played Natalie like a fiddle. She was far too trusting, far too naive, far too gullible, and Satan felt like he was burning from the inside out with rage. At her, for not seeing what was right in front of her. And at Jericho, for taking advantage of it.

The greasy douchebag waved off her apologies for  _Stan’s_  behavior, pretending to understand, pretending it was ok. Natalie missed the shit eating grin he gave Satan as she turned on him to scold him for being rude. 

He hardly heard her, taking her arm and dragging her in the direction of home. 

“Hey! Can you listen to me?”

He ignored her, afraid that if he tried to speak he would snap, and if he snapped, so would Jericho’s neck.

“Hello! Dude, I’m talking to you.” She dug her heels into the ground, trying to twist out of his grip. “Let me go.  _Stan_. Lucifer! I order you to let me go.”

He dropped her arm as if he’d been burned, and for all the fire in her eyes when he turned to look at her, he might as well have been.

“What the hell, dude?!” Hearing her curse almost made him flinch, but he held his ground. “You are being so rude right now. I was talking to my  _boyfriend_.”

Here, he did flinch, his lip curling in disgust. 

“You can’t snap at me and drag me around like I’m a dog. Stop treating me like I’m a piece of property.” 

She was angry, her pretty lips pulled down in a frown, her eyes snapping emerald fire at him. 

“You’re so selfish.”

It should’ve made him feel contrite. It should’ve made him feel guilty. 

It didn’t.

The only thing it served to do was make him angrier. His rage crawled up his throat and his hands shook. He clenched them into fists to hide it, and turned away from her with a scoff. 

It figured that he was still the bad guy. When every part of him protested against Jericho’s presence, warning him, and in turn trying to warn her. 

He was still the devil. He’d made the name for himself. 

But that didn’t mean it stung any less when she preached trust and wouldn’t heed it when it was  _her_  he was trying to save. 

That didn’t mean it hurt any less when she kissed and touched and gave the likes of  _Jericho_ her boundless love when every bone in his body ached to be the center of her attention. 

But he was the bad guy. He was Satan himself, so of course everything he did, every decision he made, was driven by his own selfishness.

It came as no surprise to him.

(The only surprise was how much her lack of faith in him burned.)


	28. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, "you can't tell me what to do."

“I don’t want you talking to them anymore,” he said, and there was a decisiveness to his voice that made Natalie tilt her head.

“Who?”

“Men.” 

She snorted. 

“Um. Okayyy. Where did this come from?” 

“They’re all pieces of shit and you don’t need to be around them.” 

Natalie bit her lip to keep from giggling, getting up and walking over to drape herself across his lap. 

“Might I remind you that  _you_ are a man.”

“And thus proves my point.”

She burst into laughter, throwing her head back. He only watched her, one dark eyebrow raised, clearly not finding the situation as funny. 

When she composed herself a little, she looked at him, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“But what if I  _like_  talking to men?” she asked, settling her arms about his neck.

“I don’t care what you like.” Natalie snorted again, muttering something about that not being what he’d said the night previous. He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m serious.”

“If you think this is a clever way to get out of your contract, you best think again,” she said, booping him on the nose. “Besides, I wear the pants in this contractship. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, skirtboy. Now be quiet with this nonsense and kiss me.” 


	29. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, "I only have eyes for you, you know that."

Lucifer was not often one to let his emotions get to him. At least, emotions that weren’t related to anger, anyways. But as it were, he found himself consumed by a flurry connected directly to his own almost constant internal rage — an abhorrent self loathing, an irrational sense of loss, and an overwhelming rush of envy. 

He was not jealous.

He was  _not_  jealous.

(He was definitely jealous.)

It was stupid and the fact that it was stupid and he knew it only made him more angry and that only fed into the hum of negativity that surrounded him in a ceaseless, miserable cycle. 

“Hey,” Natalie said, touching his arm. He blinked, looking down at her. He hadn’t even noticed she’d come over to him from where she had been laughing and joking with her little friend who wore the same face as his brother. The same friend who had confessed to him he liked her. The same friend who gave her puppy eyes every time she walked into a room and gave her all his attention.

It was ridiculous to be jealous. If Natalie had liked Michael, she’d had plenty of time to figure it out. If Natalie had liked Michael, she wouldn’t be with  _him_. 

It didn’t mean that he wasn’t aware that Michael would be much better for her than he could ever hope to be. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t aware that Michael was everything he wasn’t and could give her everything he couldn’t.

“Are you alright?” Natalie asked, taking his hand. It was tense and unyielding in her grasp. She frowned, forcing her fingers through the spaces between his. “Hey, talk to me, dude.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, but his voice was rough. Natalie looked over her shoulder, and frowned. 

“This doesn’t… This can’t have anything to do with Mike… does it?” 

For all that Natalie might’ve been oblivious to, she was somehow remarkably good at pinpointing the things that were bothering him, even when he didn’t want her to.  _Especially_  when he didn’t want her to.

His silence answered her question, and she tugged on his hand, pulling him away from the group of her friends. When they were a good distance away, she reached up to cup his face, pulling his head down to rest his forehead against hers.

“Lucifer,” she sighed, and slid her hands higher until she could thread her fingers through his hair. His name on her lips was neither exasperated nor scolding, but instead like coming home. 

It alone helped tame the storm inside of him, and it quieted down to a manageable level. 

“I only have eyes for you. You know that.”

He was quiet for a moment, before humming in acknowledgement. So she hadn’t been able to completely target the subject of his anxiety. It was probably for the best. She didn’t need to know the extent of his insecurities. 

“You’re my best friend,” she whispered, “and so much more. You make me happy like no one else does.”

And just like that, the thunder quieted, the lightning dimmed, the rain slowed to a drizzle. Everything that had been raging against him came to as close as there was to an abrupt halt, his breath catching. 

She smiled, raising up a bit on her toes to press her lips to his, and he felt the curve of her mouth against his. 

As long as she was happy. He could deal with all the things he couldn’t be for her and all the things he couldn’t give to her if he could do this one thing.

As long as he still managed to make her happy, though Father knew how he accomplished that, he would be alright. They would be alright.


	30. Natalie/A!Michael

**Prompt:** Natalie/A!Michael, "you have nothing to worry about."

It wasn’t fair in the slightest, Michael thought. He’d come first in her life. He’d helped her through her mother’s death, through her father’s alcoholism. He’d been a friend when she had no one, and damn it all, why wasn’t he good enough  _now_? What did  _Lucifer_  have that he didn’t?

He kept trying to offer her an olive branch or two or five and she kept taking it and breaking it over her knee. She chose Lucifer  _every. Single. Time_. 

He couldn’t help but be a little bitter about it. Every time he saw her with Lucifer, every time he tried to be a friend or maybe something more and all she could talk about was Lucifer, every time her gaze softened for  _Lucifer_  — it made Michael’s blood boil. 

Now she looked at him, as bright eyed and cheerful as ever. She’d sent his brother, her ever faithful lap dog, it seemed, off to get them all ice cream with a quick peck on the lips, but Natalie noticed the sour quirk to Michael’s mouth after he had gone. 

“What?” she asked, gently teasing. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

It was meant as a joke. He could see it in the twinkle of her eyes, in the mirthful shaking of her shoulders, in the kind curve of her lips. It was meant as a joke, but he flinched at how close to home she’d hit. 

( _Close_ , he thought bitterly. She hadn’t been  _close_. She’d locked onto his heart of a home and destroyed him with devastating accuracy, unwilling and unknowing but the perpetrator nonetheless.)

He forced a laugh, and waved her off. 

“Hardly,” he scoffed in reply. “Believe me, Gingersnap. You have nothing to worry about.”


	31. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:**  Natalie/Satan, routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing.

After months of occupying the same space, it’s become second nature to work around each other. They don’t have to look up to know what the other is doing, or where they’re going, or even what they’re going to say.

It’s as easy as breathing, to step around each other, for Natalie to lift the legs dangling off her mattress when he walks past, for Lucifer to shift in his favorite spot so she doesn’t send herself flying.

For Natalie, it’s even easier to settle into this new pattern, kissing his cheek or the top of his head before she leaves for school. It’s always been fun to watch him turn red, but she bites her tongue for once and smiles to herself as she leaves.

For Lucifer, it’s difficult. He’s not used to the constant affection and he’s especially put off by how quickly he begins to expect it from her, subtly angling his head for her without even tearing his eyes away from his book. It’s only with the lingering touch of her lips on his skin that he ever realizes what he’s done and stews over it for much too long after she’s gone.

He’s aware of it now. The next morning she tries it, and he swivels around, her mouth brushing his as he grabs her chin in one of his hands, squishing her cheeks. He doesn’t pull back any as he stares at her with narrowed eyes, and she smiles at him as much as she’s able.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, and squeezes her cheeks a little more roughly than necessary before releasing her. “You can’t domesticate the devil, kid.”

He turns his eyes back to his book, but Natalie doesn’t move away from him. Instead, she straightens.

“Bye, Lucifer,” she says cheerfully, and it’s more than just a reflex, he realizes bitterly a split second too late as he angles his head for her and she plants a wet kiss on his cheek, laughing on her way out the door. “Looks like I already have!”


	32. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, a gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss.

Her own feelings aren’t a surprise to her, but his are. She never expected him to return them, but the look on his face, the bleeding violet of his horns as he summarizes more or less what had happened in the absence of her memories tells her all she needs to know.

She’s spent months hiding from them, but the haunted look in his eyes when he has to tell her she died sends her surging to her feet.

If she’s already died once, that’s one life already wasted wanting, wondering, waiting. She’s not going to wait anymore.

She crosses the small space to where he’s sitting, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, and and drops to her knees before him, prying his hands from his face and looking up at him. The surprise on his face takes away some of the lines that she didn’t remember being there before, and she’s grateful for it.

She replaces his hands with her own and raises up, her lips ghosting over his in the barest of touches. He freezes, and she knows he can feel her smile.

“I love you,” she whispers, and her fingers slip down his face to curl into the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Whatever had taken hold of him shatters, and he groans low in his throat. It’s a sound that won’t leave her soon, anguished and relieved all at once, knowing she’s done this to him, but it’s not something she can linger on in the moment, either. His reaches down, grappling at her waist and pulling her up until he can kiss her without restraint.

She gasps against his frenzied lips, and tightens her fingers around his collar. His hands are everywhere, pulling her closer by her hips, fisting in her shirt, tangling in her hair, holding her face. It’s as if he’s afraid to let her go, afraid she’ll disappear at any moment.

She doesn’t fault him for it. They wasted too much time and he had to face the consequences of it alone, but not anymore.

“I love you,” she says again, gasping between teeth and tongue and lips. She lays her hand over his heart and it’s a promise.

No more going at it alone. They’re in this together. A little death won’t stop her.


	33. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, when one person’s face is scrunched up, and the other one kisses their lips/nose/forehead.

Natalie sneezes, bringing her arm up and whipping her head around to catch it in the crook of her elbow so fast she feels a little dizzy afterwards.

“Don’t give yourself whiplash,” Lucifer says from across the room, looking mildly disgusted and sounding the part as well.

“Would you rather I sneeze on you?” she asks, grabbing at the box of tissues to her left and burying her nose in one. The expression on his face twists more, and Natalie thinks it’s kind of cute, how much of a germaphobe he is.

She stands up, dragging her blanket up off her bed with her, and Lucifer subtly recoils.

“You don’t have to look so grossed out, dude. You can’t even get sick,” she protests through a stuffy nose, using her soiled tissue to swipe beneath her nose.

“That doesn’t make you any less disgusting.”

“Oh, boo.” She heads towards the door, dropping her tissue in the waste on her way, and stops next to him. “I’m going to get some orange juice. Do you want anything?”

“…No,” he says, eyeing her warily, and Natalie can tell he’s stopped breathing. She’d laugh at his dramatics if it didn’t ache.

“Fine.” She turns back towards the door, but before she takes a step, she spins back around a kisses his cheek where his face is still all scrunched up.

He curses, jumping up and scrubbing at his cheek, shouting insults at her as she hurries out of the room and into the kitchen. She really can’t help laughing, even if her insides hate her for it.


	34. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, top of head kisses.

It’s not an uncommon thing for Natalie to settle in behind him as they watch movies or read. She’s content to sit pressed against his back and rest her chin on his head, even if his horns can sometimes obstruct her view during the important scenes.

But it’s fine, because she loves to sit like this, and she knows he likes it too because he relaxes when she’s there, even though he’ll occasionally complain that it’s stupid and can’t be comfortable for her.

Mainly she likes it because it gives her access. She can kiss his shoulders, or his neck, and she knows it tickles because he’ll squirm in a way that’s obviously meant for her to take the hint to knock it off. She doesn’t and he gives up after awhile, and she smiles knowingly behind his back because she knows if he really hated it, he wouldn’t give in so easily.

Sometimes she likes to comb her fingers through his hair. It’s soft and fluffy and sometimes she’ll jokingly ask him what shampoo he uses. He rolls his eyes every time (she can’t see it from her position but she’s known him long enough to know his eye-rolling sigh). She’ll wrap her arms loosely around his neck, leaning against his back, and press her lips to the top of his head.

This is the only kiss he doesn’t protest. She think it’s because he’s pretending he doesn’t feel it, but that’s fine, because she pretends she doesn’t give it. They don’t talk about these, because they’re strangely intimate and Natalie figures if he’s going to accept them without a fuss, she’s not going to mention it.


	35. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing.

The first sign that something is terribly wrong is Natalie in the kitchen. Lucifer tries his hardest to remember if there’s a date he’s missing, a school project she’s talked about,  _anything_  that could explain this soon-to-be disaster, but nothing comes to mind.

She looks like she’s concentrating, a furrow between her brows and her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth, and he decides that her taking this any degree of seriously is infinitely worse than her messing around for shits and giggles.

He needs to get her out of the kitchen, and now, before she sets something on fire.

“What are you doing?” he asks, coming up behind her. She doesn’t so much as look up at him, staring intently at the cookbook before her.

“Cooking. Which spoon is T-S-P?”

Lucifer represses a long suffering sigh.

“Why are you cooking?”

“Because dad’s going out of town for a conference and I’m sick of takeout.”

 _You’ll be sick of something else if you eat your cooking_ , Lucifer thinks, but he doesn’t say that. This is a delicate situation. It’s like defusing a bomb.

He grips her hips and pulls her against his chest. She gasps, looking up at him in annoyance.

“C’mon, dude, I’m trying to make dinner.”

“I can think of a more enjoyable dinner than whatever that’s going to be,” he says, and kisses her neck to drive his point home. He nibbles at her pulse and feels her go red, feels her start to relax against him, and thinks he’s won.

He smirks, kissing across her jaw and towards her lips, when she pushes him away.

“Sex isn’t a real meal, Lucifer,” she chides. “I’m hungry.”

She doesn’t see his jaw drop.


	36. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, starting with a kiss meant to be gentle, ending up in passion.

It happens every time and Natalie is convinced it’s just because Lucifer is greedy. Greedy and selfish and always wanting more and for all his flaws she loves him irrevocably and she’s not really complaining so she goes along with it anyways.

She just wants a kiss. A simple, little thing.

She leans up on her toes and presses her smiling lips to his just because she can, and he pulls her closer and deepens it just because he can.

“You always do this,” she whispers, and he smirks, tilting her chin up and delving deeper until she’s consumed with him. Her fingers curl weakly against the back of his neck and he backs her against a wall, the hands on her hips slipping beneath the hem of her sweater and searing her skin.

He devours her and she lets him, every time, because he’s greedy and selfish but he’s  _hers_.


	37. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths.

Natalie arches her back with a gasp as he takes her lower lip between his teeth, but she doesn’t get far with the weight of him pressing down over her.

Lucifer is very opportunistic in moments like this, and he uses her distraction to slip his tongue into her mouth to taste her and he barely feels the bite of her nails in his skin. He wouldn’t acknowledge it except for the satisfaction it gives him that he can do this to her.

She’s wrapping her legs around him when she gasps again, and this time it’s not from anything he’s done. He can feel a shift, because suddenly she’s not as into it as she was and for the life of him he can’t figure out what the fuck has happened to steal her attention.

She pulls back just enough that their lips aren’t touching anymore, but their foreheads and noses still are and he opens his eyes to give her a look that’s half questioning, half incredulous.

“What?” he asks, and Natalie can feel his breath against her lips, can feel the brush of his chin as he speaks.

“I think I left the oven on,” she says, softly, as if she’s trying not to break the spell but her words do the trick anyways.

“Fuckin’ hell, Nat,” he groans, rolling off of her and onto his back, and she shoots up to go investigate.

What else could he have expected from her? 


	38. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, things you said when we were on top of the world.

Natalie seemed to think they were invincible.

She had cheated death time and time again at his side. He always saved her, just as she would always save him. When they were together, nothing could touch them.

Her hair snapped like fire in the dying light on top of that cliff overlooking the ocean, and when she smiled at him, breathless and awed and grateful, he had to stop and wonder if they really weren’t invincible.

In that moment, it felt like it.

 _I haven’t figured it out yet_ , he told her, about her soul,  _but I’m working on it._

She took his hand and squeezed, in one of those rare moments when he would let her do anything, because this was all he could give her in return for quieting the monster that had plagued his body for years, feasting on his mind and self control like a parasite.

 _Okay_ , she’d said,  _I believe you._

The sincerity in her eyes was too much for him to handle, so he looked away. The trust she put in him was always overwhelming, but there was something about it that tugged at a deeper part in him.

If she believed him, it made the impossible task of finding a way to free her soul feel a little less impossible. After all she had done for him, the least he could do was believe in this, because  _she_  did.

On top of the world, overlooking the sunset, he made her a promise.


	39. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, things you said after you kissed me.

It’s sudden and it’s desperate and it’s nothing and everything Natalie hoped it would be.

“That was a mistake,” he says after he pulls back, and the openness in his expression only moments before has faded back into something dark and guarded. There’s an apology on the tip of his tongue but Natalie knows it won’t come and she doesn’t want it to.

She’s learned not to read too much into what he says. He never means most of it anyways, and this is no exception.

“A mistake, or just something you think you shouldn’t have done?” she wonders, and there’s a smile teasing her lips, red from his kiss.

“Is there a difference?” he barks, annoyed, and Natalie tilts her head.

“Of course, silly. A mistake is an accident. Something you didn’t mean to do. But you meant to kiss me, didn’t you? You don’t kiss someone by accident, dude.”

Suddenly he looks very tired, and Natalie takes a step towards him, closing the distance he’d put between them.

“You don’t kiss someone back by accident, either,” she says, bending to meet his downcast eyes. It takes several beats too many, but he finally meets her gaze again.

She leans forward, taking his lips chastely. She doesn’t want to drive him away, but she needs him to know that it’s not a mistake. Not on his part, or on hers.

“Does it feel like a mistake?” she asks, a breath away, and she smiles when she feels his hand fist in her shirt.

“…No,” he finally says, and pulls her back to him.  


	40. Platonic Natalie/Raphael

**Prompt:**  Platonic Natalie/Raphael, things you said when I was crying.

Natalie McAllister was the best comforter. She was a shoulder for her friends to cry on. She was endlessly patient. She was the best listener. She always knew what to say.

Helping Heaven’s doctor was no different.

She let him stain her shirt with his tears and when he apologized, over and over, she shushed and soothed him.

“I shouldn’t be—” he began, his voice breaking, and Natalie found it hard to imagine the hard soul who had reduced this gentle giant to tears. Her friend was hurting, and so was she.

“Nonsense,” she said, rubbing circles into his back like she remembered her mom doing to her when she was upset or scared, one of the very few memories she still possessed of her. “Everyone needs to cry every now and again.”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely not understanding the reason for the tears that wouldn’t stop. There was a hole in his heart that wouldn’t stop aching, and none of his own treatments helped.

What kind of doctor was he if he couldn’t even cure himself?

“Because,” Natalie finally said, slowly, carefully picking her words. “being sad is like being sick.”

“How?” Raphael asked, skeptical even through his own turmoil. Natalie only smiled.

“There’s a lot of bad things built up inside of you, and sometimes you can fight them, but sometimes you need some help to flush them out. Crying helps you flush the bad feelings out of you. They won’t go away completely, but you’ll feel better, and they will be easier to fight off on your own.”

Raphael sniffled, and Natalie’s heart ached for him. He dipped his head back to her shoulder, and for several minutes, there was only more sniffling. Then, he laughed.

It was a shaky sound, wobbly and unsteady like a foal on new legs, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

“Perhaps you should be a doctor, too, Natalie,” he said. “An emotions one. You’re much more qualified than I.”


	41. Francisco/Jamie

**Prompt:** Francisco/Jamie, things you said when you were crying.

“Can you stop crying for two seconds?” Francisco said, trying to hide how frustrated he was. With their current situation, with Jamie’s tears, with the hopelessness of it all.

Jamie had never done anything but sniffle and try to suck up his tears or cry harder, but this time, something was different. There was a shift that Francisco was too late to pick up on, and before he knew what was happening, Jamie had spun on him.

“Can you stop being an asshole for two seconds?” he asked, swiping at his tears angrily. It was futile, because they were immediately replaced by more, but he glared at Francisco nonetheless. “I’m sorry I cry! I can’t help it! We have different ways of expressing ourselves.”

There was a tremor to Jamie’s voice that Francisco had never heard before. Jamie yelled a lot, but never like this. It was rare when he was genuinely angry, like he seemed to be now, and Francisco was taken aback by the sudden, powerful display.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m stressed, and I’m scared, and I’m doing the best I can. I’m sorry I can’t be an emotionless robot like you, Francisco.”

Jamie spun back around, stomping away from him, and Francisco stared at his back in shock. It was rare Jamie ever said anything that really stung, but that was because Jamie was both terrible at insults and never said anything that couldn’t be brushed off as an overreaction or a joke.

This…

It was different this time.


	42. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, things you said when you were scared.

She is, without question, the bravest person he’s ever met.

That’s saying a lot, from him, because to come to that conclusion at all he had had to redefine what bravery meant to him.

It’s not the absence of fear, like he’d once thought. It’s being strong in the face of it, and no one has ever demonstrated that more often than Natalie has.

She’s scared. He doesn’t need a verbal confirmation to know she is. It’s the little things, like the way she sits completely still leaned against him because she’s always moving. It’s the way she’s unnaturally quiet for long stretches of time.

It’s the way she squeezes his hand for reassurance, because as scared as she is, she trusts him to fix it.

It’s the way she smiles at him and tells him,  _I love you, Lucifer._

And maybe it’s just Natalie. It does seem awfully like her to admit how much she cares for him on a sketchy bus, barely able to breathe, her fear and illness combating to beat her down.

But he’s scared, too, because she’s had many more chances to tell him, better settings and timings and lead-ins.

He’s scared because it feels too much like a goodbye.


	43. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, "Have you lost your damn _mind_!?"

She waits for his explosive response, expects it, but she still flinches when he raises her voice at her. 

“Have you lost your damn mind?!” he yells. He tries to reign in his anger, but it’s hard. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and tries not to think about how his back pulls. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I just…I wanted—”

“I know what you wanted,” he says, heated but markedly calmer. He opens his eyes and she can see the exhaustion pulling at the lines of his face. She feels a little guilty. “Where did you even get this?”

He doesn’t gesture, doesn’t look to the bathroom floor where Michael’s incomplete sigil sits, but he doesn’t have to. The guilt tugs a tighter knot in the pit of her stomach. 

“I — I found it online. I thought it was fake, I didn’t think it’d work,” she rushes to say, but the expression in his eyes is enough to make her flinch again when he looks back at her.

“But it was worth a shot, right? To get away from me?”

She looks down and doesn’t answer. He turns to the bathroom to get rid of the evidence.

“No Michael,” he says, with less conviction than he would have liked. “I’m handling this, whether you like it or not.”

She nods even though he can’t see her, and the silence that presses on the rest of the night is long and heavy enough to make her regret her decision.


	44. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, "Please don't do this."

“Don’t do this,” she says, and her voice is too quiet and it doesn’t carry in the cavernous room like she thinks it should. She reaches out, towards his shaking shoulders, but he seems farther away than ever even though he can’t be more than twenty feet from her. 

“Don’t do this, Lucifer,” she calls again, louder, and there’s an edge of panic to it now and her legs are heavy as she tries to make her way towards him. She doesn’t even know what she’s asking him not to do, but there’s a dread that sits heavy in her stomach and she has to bite back the nausea. 

He pulls his shirt over his head, and it hurts to see him so scared. She can only see his back but there’s a tremor, a restlessness to every one of his movements that tells her something is horribly, horribly wrong. 

“Lucifer,” she tries again, but it’s like he can’t hear her. His back stays to her and she sees sweat roll between his shoulder blades. He curls his fingers by his sides as he drops to his knees, and this is the first time she sees Pestilence standing there, beside a skeletal man. She watches their mouths move but she can’t hear the words and she hasn’t gotten any closer to them — it’s like she’s moving through jello. 

There’s a  _whoosh_  and a blinding light that makes Natalie halt in her step and throw an arm up over her eyes, but when she blinks them open again she’s awestruck. She’s seen them in her dreams before — in  _his_  memories — but never in person. His wings are beautiful, and for a moment she can’t remember what she was trying to accomplish here. 

The movement of the robed skeleton around to the back snaps her attention back, and she watches in confusion as a scythe materializes in his bony hand. There’s a pause, and she can’t see anymore but she thinks he’s asking Lucifer a question.

Lucifer tenses, then looks to his right. There’s a despair in his eyes she’s never seen before, and she follows his gaze to… herself. Her breath hitches as she takes in the sickly appearance of her own, unmoving body. Her head snaps back around, in time to watch Lucifer steel himself and nod, and everything falls into place.

Pestilence loves to gamble. She’s dead. He’s making a trade for her life. 

“ _Lucifer, please don’t do this!_ ” she screams, forcing her legs to  _move_  as the scythe is raised, its curve glinting in the low light. There’s so little space between them, but she’s too slow. 

The whistle of the blade is swiftly replaced with a sickening  _thump_ , and blood splatters on her face.

* * *

Natalie wakes from the dream in the dim blue glow of their rented room, heart hammering with her hair clinging to her face and neck, and retches onto the floor. 

A weight sinks the mattress beside her and pulls her hair back. He doesn’t say a word when she finishes emptying her stomach and dissolves into sobs, but he remains by her side and that’s enough.

It’s more than enough, knowing that the scars on his back had been the cost of her life.


	45. Natalie/Satan

**Prompt:** Natalie/Satan, "Tell me a secret."

“Tell me a secret,” Natalie says from the bed. He raises an eyebrow at her, and she seems to shrink against the mattress, if only slightly. He appreciates the backbone she’s growing again — it’s one step closer to her believing he would never hurt her. “Please.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because — well… You want me to trust you, right?”

“…Yeah?” he says slowly.

“How can I trust you if I don’t know anything about you? Tell me a secret.”

“If I tell you something normal about me that you’ve just forgotten you’d never be the wiser,” he says, crossing his arms. 

“Well, I’m  _trusting_  you to tell me a secret.” She smiles, and it’s a ghost of the cheeky smile he had taken for granted, but it’s something. 

It’s absolutely pathetic, how hard it is to say no to her. This is an easy battle to lose, though. He had already given up his wings — a secret was easier.

“A secret, hmm?” He strokes his chin, and it pulls a giggle from her. His eyes widen in surprise and her spine snaps to attention. 

“Sorry,” she apologizes, and at first he wants to be frustrated at her inability to relax around him but then he catches the twitching at the corners of her lips. She’s not scared, at least, not as much as she was. “Something juicy, please.”

He sits on the end of the bed and she hesitates, but scoots closer to him, leaning forward intently. 

“I did… spike your brownies one time. You don’t remember but you were high off your mind and I convinced you they were normal brownies.”

She gasps, scandalized. 

“You lied to me?!” she asks, hurdling over the initial skepticism that she continued to harvest about any of their time together in shock.

“It’s what I do — did,” he corrects quickly, catching sight of her expression. His eyes soften and he looks away. “I haven’t lied to you in a long time, kid.” 

She doesn’t know what to say to that, and she would be hard pressed to believe him if he didn’t seem so sincere. She laughs nervously, an entirely inappropriate reaction, and wrings her fingers.

“Ok, well… That wasn’t a good enough secret. I want to know something about you,” she says, moving to nudge him but catching herself at the last second.

“Christ, I don’t know.” All of his secrets were dark and most of them were buried deep enough where he could deny their existence. “What do you want me to tell you? That sometimes I regret falling? That I miss Mi—” he cuts himself off with a snap of his jaw, and his open expression immediately sours.

Natalie reels back from him, but doesn’t move back to her original spot at the head of the bed. She just watches him, quietly for a moment, her heart beating a little erratically at his sudden mood swing. 

“You…you regret falling?”

“I — Yes. No. Sometimes. It…” he sighs. “It’s complicated.” He doesn’t have the energy to tell her how much he wishes for his family before the fall, sometimes. He doesn’t have the time to talk about all the years he’d spent wondering what it would have been like if he’d done things differently. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. He shakes his head, pushing himself up off the bed again. 

“Not your problem, kid. Get some rest.”

 


End file.
